‘Tess, love,’ she said, quickly dropping the formal tone. ‘How are you feeling? Did you go to work today?’

‘Yes,’ I swallowed, ‘yes I did, and I think I overdid it a bit.’

It was only a little bit of a lie. I was pretty tired.

‘There,’ Joan tutted. ‘I told you not to rush back, didn’t I?’

‘I know.’

‘I take it you won’t be coming tomorrow then,’ she stated, rather than asked. ‘I’ll tell your father not to expect you.’

‘Thanks, Joan.’ I smiled. She was certainly making it easy for me. ‘I appreciate that. I’ll see you soon.’

‘Not that soon, I suspect,’ she said shrewdly. ‘You take care, Tess, love and don’t worry about your father. Or work.’

‘I won’t,’ I whispered and hung up.

With the scene set, and my booking confirmed, all I had to do when I got up Saturday morning was prepare for my secret getaway. Having not taken a holiday for so long, my causal wardrobe was somewhat depleted, but a whirlwind shopping trip soon rectified that.

My appetite had made an unexpected comeback thanks to Joan’s coaxing and I ate my way through most of what she had loaded into the fridge as I packed my bags and then settled down on Sunday to prepare emails for Chris and Lucy. I explained what to expect in my absence and apologized for not letting them in on the finer details of my short-notice departure. The less they knew, the less my father would be able to get out of them.

By the time I had scheduled the emails to be sent the next morning – when I would be winging my way to Wynmouth – I was feeling a little nervous. Or was I excited? It had been so long since I had done anything so self-centred, anything that didn’t revolve around work, that I really couldn’t be sure. My current mental state was hard to pin down, especially as Mum’s diary had added its own unique layer of turmoil to it, but Wynmouth would soon set me straight. I hoped.

*

The journey to my personal paradise should have taken no more than three hours, but I was behind the wheel for nearer five. Not one, not two, but three crash clear-ups had hampered my stretch of motorway journey and I was well into Cambridgeshire before I started to notice the change in the scenery. It felt like an age since I had slowed down enough to look at green things growing.

A little further on I crossed the final county line and drove deep into Norfolk. Eventually, the first signpost directing me towards Wynmouth came into view and I swallowed down a lump in my throat as I tried to quell my mixed emotions.